


Light of Her Life, Darkness of Her World

by BadWolf256



Category: Burning Chrome - William Gibson, Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolf256/pseuds/BadWolf256
Summary: Three men, one light. Lovers are shadows, betrayers bright windows into the soul. So much can be learned through feet falling on pavement. More can be learned from bodies. They are something.Doctor Who/Burning Chrome crossover.No prior knowledge of Burning Chrome needed.





	Light of Her Life, Darkness of Her World

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover between _Doctor Who_ and William Gibson's _Burning Chrome_ However, you do not need to have read _Burning Chrome_ to understand what happens in this story. It is written in as close a style to Gibson's as I could get, and while it leaves some things purposefully vague, it also provides enough information to get the basics, which is all you're really supposed to get. That being said, specific stories used in this crossover are:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Johnny Mnemonic_  
>  _Burning Chrome_  
>  _New Rose Hotel_

Love doesn’t mean much to them.

She’s sitting on a street corner, running her tongue over her teeth, sharp and steel, neon bouncing off the inlays. Wolfish, razor blades, draw blood when she bites down. Fingernails, gold pine needles, safety pins, knives. Red lipstick, tight black skirt, mesh gloves fingerless, bulletproof. Navy leather. Shield against the world. Hair down past her shoulders, wild, tangled, roots spiking into bleach. Hears everything so clearly, like nothing existed before the way she hears things now. Miles down, nearing the end of town, hotel window open, three men are shedding their clothes, arguing about whether they should use condoms.

He’s running, no surprise there. Glad, probably, that she had the good sense to get rid of that little prick who gave the light of her life such a hard time. Light of her life doesn’t mind, doesn’t talk to her anyways, he’s rounding the street corner, just at the opposite end, now she starts with it, speeding up, flashing with the speed of her footsteps, blur of gold-chrome like fur, black buildings in the background, white pavement under black trainers. Getting closer, the chase’ll be over soon, and tonight he’ll take her to that same hotel and bury himself in her, praying so fervently that she’ll be able to give him what she wants this time, what does he want, anyways? It’s not just about love anymore. People don’t do things like this to each other if they’re in love. Good. She doesn’t want to be anyway.

Not with him.

_Never stop running,_ her mother who was not her mother said, grimy alleyways, one-way tickets to Chiba, sitting next to light of her life. Both get claws. Stay with me light of my life, one-way ticket out of Chiba, meet someone you might fall in love with, fuck him a few times, never speak again, please don’t hate me light of my life, things she can’t think about without retching, betrayal, a new pair of sneakers, left in the darkness, feet still going. Used to wear stilettos when she did this because they looked better but the heels would always snap off, so she made the switch to the latest auto-molds, top-of-the-line, not meant to go this far, knows it because the heels are going, filaments snapping apart, gaping holes where new calluses form, have to form, she learned her lesson early, _never stop running._

She can count, now, how long it’s going to be. She can’t feel it in the air like him. Not a problem. She’s been the victim of this hunt enough to do it with her eyes closed. That would make it fun, wouldn’t it? No. She’s quite fond of her eyes.

Ikon’s. Whiskey spiked with gold. Not like his.

Sendai’s, at first. Said they worked fine for him. Tally Isham blue, he said. Not quite. Something went wrong, softness lost to sharp angles, young newness turned ancient, sadness, at least the sadness wasn’t from his eyes. After Arcadia, like hers. Ikon’s. Darker than hers, though, chocolate. Still just as sad.

Three seconds.

First times. Too long since she’s had a first time with him.

Two seconds.

Could go back to Satellite Five.

One second.

Could go back.

_Fuck._

Does he always do this when he catches her, grind his pelvis against her, erection straining like that rod they used on her the first time she went Lo Tek? Just as hard, twice as electric. Heat, sharp, gentle pain pooling downwards. Put his hand down that tight black skirt. She dared him once. Might not always do this. Doing it this time.

“I missed you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I really missed you, R-”

Only one rule, out of all of them.

“Did you get him?”

“Righ’outside.”

“Who?”

“Jack.”

“Good choice.” It is spoken casually, the kind of thing that you could say every day, say as easily as ‘good morning’ or ‘suck my cock now please.’ “Have I mentioned that I missed you yet?”

“She has a new boy. Ligh’ of my life. ‘m happy for her.”

“Was there dancing?”

“’Course.”

Shakes his head so sadly.

“You could dance with me if you wanted.”

Flashing, hint of ice. Two rules, then.

“I don’t dance.”

Sounds like before, cold like North, London in the spring with no coat. Hisses when she squeezes her hands into fists, glad he’s behind her.

“You hurt yourself again.”

“Doesn’ ma’er.”

“Well... It matters to me.”

“She killed ‘im. Ligh’ of my life. ‘M proud of her.”

Like hell she did. One thing about Jack Harkness, he won’t stay dead even if you ask nicely.

“Sometimes I wonder if he hates us yet.”

“No.”

“He could. He should. Shouldn’t he? It’s not like we’re nice to him. We don’t even let him...”

“No.”

Three rules, then. Ground rule number one: Don’t tell him your name or he’ll leave. Ground rule number two: No dancing. Ground rule that doesn’t exist but probably should: Don’t talk about him like light of your life. No use talking about it now. Dragging her down a back alley, up against a wall. Tracing low, low down her stomach, off with the navy leather, one shade down from black. Hands a good few feet above his head, sound like bullets whizzing by and it’s too late to go back now. Tips grazing against soft tufts.

“Stop.”

“You think? Thought you were liking this.”

Gestures at the tight black skirt, hiked up around her legs, exposing her thighs to him.

“Never said I wasn’. But you’re not takin’ care ‘f yourself.”

“Oh, that? Don’t mind that. It’s nothing.” Meets her gaze, sees her defiance. “Really! I’ll take care of it in the shower.”

“Don’ want you to take care ‘f it in the shower. Want you to take care of it inside me.”

“Yeah, but you’ll want this more. Trust me.”

Words chased from his mouth with his, skirt discarded altogether.

“They shouldn’t let you outside, you know? They wouldn’t if they were smart. They’d keep you all to themselves. Rassilon knows I am.”

He talks when he fucks her, with his mouth and his hands and that cock of his that she wants so badly to take, let the gold take over, fights the impulse, knowing it would be cut clean in half. Glad for the length of it, the thickness, guess that doesn’t change like the rest. This will inevitably lead to things that she’s never been ready for. Cheap hotel right outside Nighttown. The thrum of his pulse against her, arms curled around her waist.

“Do you love me still? You don’t have to. I was just...”

When the stars come out it’s her head she’s falling through, tapestry of gold neon, white-blond fur, half-memories. Chiba, sitting on that bus passing a joint back and forth, it seemed a good idea at the time. Light of her life sitting there, burgundy acrylic. Shouting, voice hoarse, _Don’ leave me!_ Cornered on the street, hands calloused, black leather a shield before shields were needed. _You’re a long way from home._ Searching desperately. _Longer’n you’d know. ‘S your name?_ Resigned to this fate. _John Smith._

_You can’ be serious._

_You shouldn’ be out here, all alone, in the cold like this._

_What else?_

_Molly sent me._

_To come home?_

Brimming with more hope than ever.

_She doesn’ wanna see you again._

_Yeah, well... She’s like that, light of my life._

Strange stare, as if he hadn’t figured it out already.

_You loved her._

_She’s the ligh’ of my life. Always ‘ave, always will._

Shrugging. Must not be that much of a bother, then.

_Yours?_

_Can’ tell you._

Another shrug. Room on the edge, last thing she’ll see before leaving Chiba, a barrage of silver lights racing on shadowy streets. Sipping something, tastes like coffee, burns like hot metal. Hair undone, snap of her fingers.

Chiba is gone, now. And they’re a long way from home, the two of them. He finds it anyway, in her, sunk down low, sated, he will stay inside her until those sharp spears, catching light, go away, her hands will go down to caress his face, eyes searching in darkness. Every day since then, every night since then searching. It will not be different now.

Then come cold nights, longing, chase forgotten in the face of new evils. Pretty girls, tentacles for hair, Dalekanium for teeth. Tighter black skirts, longer black heels. Eyes shining out to the distance. Light of her life on the battlefield, stars from lines of code dancing across silver inlays. Man with a thumb for a hand, smiles appreciatively, taking the fall. Howling. Two steps into the city, _Do you understand why we had to do it now?_ Weak in the knees, falling to the pavement, retching, pained screams of silence as they break off, first time, only time.

Showers, sparks falling, white-blue-charcoal-lilac, there is a building in Arcadia. Abandoned temple to some god, lesser than themselves. Either he’ll be here or light of her life. Not too hard to know which. Thrumming painful, senses overloaded. _Saved her._ The voice says, _saved her, saved her, saved her._ Came outside. _Saved him._ No. Not the same. Coat long, suit brown, hair ruffled.

_Centuries ahead of whatever you’re doing at Chiba._

_Yeah, then why’d you ‘ave Sendai’s?_

_Don’t anymore._

Five and a half hours. Parts strewn about the floor. Stolen, deep space, exploration vessel, all just a simulation to pass the time.

_Be honest... Am I ginger?_

So, it’s not the first time. Here’s to hoping it’ll be the last.

_Jus’ a bit... Brown._

Nights are cold no longer. Now they are awkward, rebuilding the dance. The chase, too, needs rebuilding. Runs faster, now, keeps up better, pounces sooner. Not enough time in between.

Ikon’s when she wakes up, chooses not to look at the clock.

“Thought I’d killed you there for a minute.”

She yawns, fighting the last, creeping tendrils of tire.

“Took a good long nap, you did.”

Blinking. Sometimes still hears a lonely soldier in that voice. Explained it to her once, casual remark, _Arcadia’s years ahead of whatever they have in Chiba._ Followed by: _Even they can’t always get it right. Complete regeneration from a source strand, bound to be a slip every now and then._

“Jack back yet?”

A comfortable terrain to slip into, thoughts of immortal men.

“Soon.”

He’ll be with light of her life, then, outside on a patio wired to the rest of the city, noise in the air, screens floating, hands intertwined, blood down the sleeves of his coat, always liked to get himself bloodied up, Jack. Two in the morning he’ll be sneaking in the window, eyes still hazed with desire. Tally Isham on their own, only needed a few corrections. Joked when they first met that he should’ve gone green, wasn’t room for two with blue. Shaking her head vehemently. Liked the blue as much then as she does now.

“You haven’t said it yet.”

“I love you.”

Remembers the days when they tried to say it like it wasn’t just three words that would lose their edge. Then they did realize that, and then they stopped, but sometimes he still asks her.

“Yes, you do. I was afraid for a minute there you were saving it for Molly.”

“She’s the ligh’ of my life. ‘M always gonna save it for her.”

A few months later they’ll be sitting in a cafe somewhere in America, coffee untouched, and he’ll be asking her again what it is, this whole ‘light of her life’ thing, wait for either one thing to happen or another.

Two scenarios. Fight or conversation, hands used as they’re supposed to be or mouth made into steel, anger and the howling coming up, soft confessions to no one in particular. Instead there is silence, taking a new meaning, stretching itself through the fabric of their small, contained world, wrapping around him like a blanket, confession in its own right, if you look at it the right way, enough of one, anyways, to pretend that asking was the right thing to do. She wants him to believe that asking is the right thing to do. Thinks it might stop him asking again. Never does, just means there’ll be a longer wait before they have to go through this again, hiding in ways that people who love each other never should.

Do they though?

It could be ended, easily. Two questions, simple, brilliant, razor-blades. One day she will ask him, _Where do you come from, and why aren’t you there now?_ He will answer her the same day that she tells him _Why do you call her the light of your life, exactly?_ Neither of them will answer that question. So the cycle repeats, a better cycle than most can hope for these days, she’ll take part in it gladly. Research can be thrown out the window, there’s something to be said for keeping things in the inside, nature of wolves to keep things on the inside, let them out in sobs that ring over mountains. If only he could be a mountain to her, something more than a storm.

How selfish she must be, because she doesn’t want to see the end.

Last time they left it at 

_She seems nice._

_She was._

No harm telling the truth once in awhile. Not her fault for cutting it off at the apostrophe. Light of her life would’ve.

“How long was it?” 

A safe question. One she knows the answer to, yes, on the surface. Beneath that, a spiral. A wave. Nothing to do but jump in. Swim or drown. Nerve endings sizzling, struggling for air. Tightness in her lungs. This isn’t against the rules, she reminds herself, isn’t but is, is but isn’t but is but isn’t but

“Nine hundred.”

Code, to everyone who isn’t them. Take that, Jack Harkness, take that, Mum! Take that, light of my life, but please, take me back first.

“You?”

How long? How long, Bad Wolf, how long really? Depends on where you start counting. Start counting. Spiral down, all the way down to zero. Street on the edge. Girl with the Edge. Said her dad called it that, said her dad died, that’s neat, isn’t it, so did mine! Said the Edge came back to bite them. Government virus, specifically isolated, three days, five hundred bouts of coughing, mucus, blood, shutdown. Funeral for a body no one ever knew, edge of the graveyard, just seemed fitting. Grew up on Edge stories, cheap guns with grips, red plastic. Holding it in the palm of her hand, cold metal warmed by her palm. Asked, how did it happen for you? Same as everyone, she said back, relief through her veins, antibiotics that probably could have burned the Edge away, easier than telling the truth.

No one wants to hear the truth.

Further. Five minutes ‘til. Passport stowed. We can trust it, came from some friends of mine. Real nice. Don’t use the things they should. Not too good with the times, y’know? Saying, I can’ my mum’d kill me. Well, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to this, Rosie. I thought it would be good for us, y’know? ‘Course I do, what, d’you really think ‘s ‘cos of you?! Maybe. I mean, I don’t- I’m just saying. Yeah. I kind of do. I thought we were better than all of them. Y’know? Lilt to her voice like snow, rolling down the side of a hill, light bouncing off slow neons. Ice skating when you’re not sure whether you’re going to fall or not, right down to the center of the Earth if you do, right into the madness. I would never! You’re the… You’re the ligh’ of my life, yeah? ‘N ‘m gonna stay with you, Millions. ‘Til what? ‘Til what, ‘til I… ‘Til I fucking die?! Hands grasped so tight, gazes locked, gunfight, words, bullets, no difference. Little bit longer’n that.

“Three days.”

Since she saw him last. Every day, it used to be. Still is, but three since she saw _him._ Inside. Past those walls. Knocked the door down, threw it back up again twice as strong.

__

“How long are you going to stay with me?”

Fuck him. Everyone he is, everything he represents, late nights, government scandals. Looking at him’s like… It’s like… First day Lo Tek, teeth ripped out and laid on a metal table, syringe in her neck, _We don’t do antibiotics here. You want to be Lo Tek? Then you’ll live through this on your own._

Light of her life watching the screams.

Light of her life’s gone, isn’t she? Why did it take her this long to notice, goddamnit, why did it take her _this fucking long!_

New. New light. New darkness, but she’ll take the darkness. Take the darkness, live for the day it dies to the flame, love when it’s snuffed out again.

“Forever.”

***

“I love you.”

“Of course you do. I never stopped thinking that. No matter how far gone you were, I never stopped knowing it, y’know?”

Elephant in the room, unspoken truths, time to leave the shadows.

“An’... I missed you.”

“Is that so?”

“Everything. You, an’... Dog, God, how’s Dog? Still-”

“No.”

“Righ’.”

“But the Floor? You used to _ride_ the Floor! Y’know?”

“Guess ‘s the way it was back then.”

“I… Fuck… I got a boy with me. All sweet, y’know? Got one hell of an Edge, though. Edge like dad, you know, I bet dad’s up there thinking we’ve done well for ourselves.”

“‘S it real, though? Edge?”

“It has to be.”

“Molly Millions. ‘S not an answer.”

“It _has_ to be.”

“Why?”

“Fuck, Rose. Got you asking questions, didn’t he?”

“Don’t talk about him.”

“Okay. Okay, I won’t. Okay? I’ll leave it alone, y’know?”

Sighing, long, slow, dragged out.

“I’ve been Lo Tek a long time now, y’know? Picked up a few things, being Lo Tek this long.”

“Yeah?”

“Whole helluva lot of things. Had a lot of things proven wrong, being Lo Tek this long.”

“But never Edge?”

“Ha! Not even close. Yeah, Edge. A million times, Edge, shit, I got a boy who doesn’t believe in Edge. Thing is though… I still believe in it, y’know?”

Tables turned, table turned upside down, splintered, shattered to pieces.

_“How?! How the hell do you?! How the hell could you?! D’you even_ know, _Molly?!_ ”

Takes only one glance to see it. Impaled her own hands on each other, claws gone right through, left in bloody tatters.

“D’you even know what ‘s like?! I ‘ad ‘im, an’ now ‘s gone. Can you even _begin_ to know?”

”Light of her life comes around, hand at the ready.

“No. I don’t know.”

Figures this must be easier than a knife, quicker. Lovelier.

“But the thing is… He’d tell you, wouldn’t he?”

One swipe, one clean swipe. Proud of herself. Doesn’t even scream when it connects, right at the wrist, twitches there on the ground for one long minute, fingers mourning the loss of owner. Bloody stumps left, and one other thing.

The answer.

She thinks, whatever you ‘ave to say to me, please let it be worth it.

“You gotta believe in something. Y’know?”


End file.
